


Watching

by LaurelRose



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-09 14:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurelRose/pseuds/LaurelRose
Summary: Life in a mental institution is boring. Simon finds Alex and her adventures far more interesting. (unbeta'd)





	Watching

He watched her. It seemed he was always watching her. Life in a mental hospital was uneventful, so it was easy to see the appeal. After she visited, after he met Alex and her Dr. Strand, he knew they were important. He just knew, as much as he could know anything in this... place. If he were honest with himself, which he tried to be, watching her was far more interesting than watching Trent. Even her sleep was more interesting, and being away, far away in Seattle made the force of Trent's prayers hurt less so he could almost ignore them. And so, only days after meeting Alex Reagan, he... traveled... to her. Observed her working, drinking cup after cup of coffee at the cafe she loved. He watched her and the producer, Nic, as they recorded and edited and argued about her Black Tapes. He even found himself in her home, watching her watch tv, watching her eat dinners of takeout Chinese or plates from her freezer. He remembered tv dinners, a tingle of familiarity from before... before the shadows, before the fear, before the blood. Before Mommy screaming as the knife found its sheath in her, over and over, before the manic joy of Daddy's warm blood on his face as he stabbed until the man stopped moving.

Simon's thoughts skipped. Some part of him savored the memories of blood and screams, loved the smell and the taste of it. Some of him shied away from those memories. They were too much sometimes, too... real. They sometimes threatened to drown him in memory, to suffocate his voice in that coppery smell until all he could do was knock once for yes or twice for no.

No. NO, it was much better to watch Alex. She was interesting. Curious, clever, determined and oh... so very unaware of the danger she was stepping into. She worked long hours, recording episodes of her podcast, a new concept to Simon, following leads, hunting down interviews. Some of those people had shadows over them, the same sort of shadow that had followed Simon through his childhood until he learned to hide from them. To hide from Him. Those interviews interested him the most.

He enjoyed watching her tease threads loose from a tapestry far more complex and dangerous than she could imagine. He knew he should warn her of those dangers, of learning too much, but he knew she wouldn't believe him, not yet. And then it would be too late.

Tonight, he watched her from a corner of her living room as she worked on her laptop, sitting on her couch. Her legs stretched out over the cushions, her back propped against the arm as she typed away. Her hair, still damp from her shower, was dark in the lamp light. He hadn't watched that part, he remembered that it was rude to follow people into the bathroom, nor had he watched her dress through the open door of her bedroom. She now wore a thin shirt, picture of a cartoon mouse and cat on the front and fuzzy long pants that she only wore at home. Not a bad thing, he mused, as the lurid green was far too ugly for public exposure, even to his inexperienced eyes. 

He watched her, unseen and unknown, as her eyes skipped across the screen of her laptop, her cheeks flushing with color. She laughed, the sound sudden and unexpected, shaking her head at the computer screen. Curious, Simon stepped closer to see. She was reading an email.

"Wow, Amalia. trust you to find this stuff." She reached for her wine glass, sipped, now reading in earnest. "The Black Tapes has fanfiction? Who writes fanfic about real people?" He read over her shoulder as she laughed. He suppressed his own laugh as he read the text sent by Alex's Russian friend. The writer had imagined an unrealistic scenario between Alex and her Dr. Strand that had them, rather had story-them, gasping into each other's mouths with passion while hands ripped at clothes. Simon read on, amused by the absurdity as the fantasy-Alex knelt before Strand, taking his... cock... into her mouth, moaning. He blinked, confused. Why would anyone so that? 

The real Alex sighed, breath catching in her throat. Simon glanced down at her. Her face was even more flushed, her eyes gone dark. He moved around the couch to kneel unseen by her side to watch her more closely as she continued reading, utterly unaware of her viewer. She shifted on the couch, stretching out more comfortably, one hand sliding past the waistband of her horrid green pants. Her breath came faster, her lips parted and red. He glanced at the screen. Fantasy-Alex was still sucking fantasy-Strand's cock, tongue licking, hands stroking. The real Alex's breathing hitched and Simon focused on her. All signs of her earlier laughter had faded, replaced with reddened wet lips and wide eyes. He watched her breathing, noticed her nipples gone hard under her cartoon shirt. Her lower lip caught in her teeth as she read. 

"Holy fuck, that's hot." Her voice was low, husky. He continued reading. Fantasy-Alex now lay face-down on her desk at the studio while fantasy-Strand knelt between her legs, licking and using his hands on... he didn't know these words. He watched the real Alex as she read, caught in the story's web. Her hand moved farther between her legs and she gasped. He watched, intensely curious, as her gasp turned into a low moan, fingers moving between her legs. 

Fantasy-Strand moved up fantasy-Alex's body, standing between her legs and... ah. Sex. Or... fucking. Why would someone write a fantsy about strangers having sex? He didn't understand. Clearly, Simon's education had been lacking.

Real-Alex moaned again, snapping his attention from the screen to her body. Her eyes were half-closed and he could see her fingers moving faster now between her legs, doing... something. A scent rose from her, musky and new. Not the muck of the Shadow, but a lighter scent, something unique to Alex. Simon wanted to touch her found one hand almost reaching for her. He puled back slightly, surprised at himself. He hated being touched. What was different now? She seemed... in distress? Perhaps he only wanted to comfort her.

Alex's breathing grew harder, short gasps and moans. Her head fell back on the couch arm, laptop and the fantasy-Strand's cock seemingly forgotten. The hand between her legs moved much faster now, rhythmic, her other hand now caressing her nipples through her thin shirt. He knelt, hands carefully laid on his knees, watching. He felt strange, a new sensation low in his belly, lower. He would have to think about it later. Alex was... engrossing. He didn't blink as he watched her body stiffen, her breath held for a long moment as her hips bucked up into her hand once, twice. Then she cried out, a wordless sound, sharp and filled with... what? Pain? Fear? Pleasure? Simon wasn't sure. Her hand went still between her legs and she relaxed into the cushions. He watched her eyes open slowly, her breath beginning to slow. She pulled her hand from beneath her waistband. Her fingers were wet, slick with something that smelled strongly of the earlier scent. Simon leaned in closer, inhaled deeply. He wanted to memorize the smell, it could be useful later. He watched her lick her fingers clean of the wetness and felt and answering twitch low in his own belly. He watched her so closely, he could almost feel her tongue on his own fingers.

She lay still for a few moments, breath returning to normal. The flush faded from her cheeks, and finally she opened her eyes, looking at the computer screen that still held the words of fantasy-Alex and Stand's... fucking. She half-laughed, half-sighed.

"Jesus, I really need to get laid." She sat up and put the laptop on the coffee table. Simon moved back, standing quickly to avoid having his not-body moved through. She went into the bathroom. He heard water run, then she returned holding a glass of water. She stood staring at the laptop, her face a mixture of embarrassment and... longing? "Well, that was unexpected."

She had a habit of talking to herself. Simon liked it. It helped him understand her, helped him feel almost included in her company, almost in a conversation with her. 

"I need to have a talk with Amalia. She can't send me stuff like that." She took a long drink, thoughtful. "I can't, can I? He's the subject of my story, a work colleague. I can't think about how hot he is. His eyes..." Her own drifted shut and Simon could see her nipples grow hard again. "Or his voice. Jesus, his voice is gorgeous. I could probably cum from his voice alone." Her eyes opened, unfocused. 

"I've got to get laid."

Simon opened his eyes. His real eyes, in his real body, in Three Rivers. He felt different. Temperature elevated, heart rate accelerated, breathing erratic. His hand was between his legs and felt wet. Sticky. He sat up, confused. He could smell that musk here, though... it was different. Not as sweet, more salty-smelling. He moved his fingers, covered in now-cooling milky... something... to his mouth. He licked, curious. Musk, salt, a little bitter. He blinked. This was new. New and unknown. He would have to learn more. Watch more. He needed to understand.


End file.
